Forget Me Nots
by dragonpyre
Summary: Touya Todoroki died on Jauary 18th. Dabi was found by Shouta Aizawa the same night. Scarred from fire and suffering amnesia. With nowhere else to go, Aizawa takes the teen in and they become a family, searching for the answers to Dabi's past. That is, if he still even wants them. Also, why does he feel so protective of that peppermint icy-hot kid in his adopted dads class?
1. Prologue

**AN: Welcome to my stress relief project! This fic is going to be fairly graphic in some places regarding trauma and panic/anxiety attacks. Especially in the first chapter. Other than that I hope you enjoy!**

**Also the title comes from the fact that forget me nots are blue and dabi has blue flames so it's sort of a pun? I guess?**

Shouta Aizawa was a twenty-one year old underground pro hero. He had been at the gig for almost four years now-well, six if you counted his provisional years- and he thought he had seen some disturbing things. Human trafficking, quirk trafficking, underground fight clubs, drug epidemics, you name it he'd seen it. That night was about to be a different story.

It was the smell of something burning that drew Shouta to the scene. At first he didn't think much of it; probably just some homeless people trying to keep warm in the January night air. But it never hurt to check.

The last thing Shouta expected to see though was a smoking body laying in the alley.

* * *

Burning.

He was burning.

No, there was no fire. No blue or orange flashed beyond his eyelids, or heat pressing against his skin. But then why did he hurt so much? His nerves felt like they were exposed to the world, raw and frayed like rope. He would vomit from the pain if he had the energy to.

Something heavy hit the ground near him. He tried to open his eyes to see what, but they felt like they were sealed shut by glue.

_Dried blood_, his mind supplied. _Or puss._ Gross. He groaned to lament his disgust.

Somewhere above him someone muttered a soft "shit". And then there was a hand on his throat.

Immediately his eyes shot open, breaking apart whatever had held them down, and he found himself scrambling backwards despite the pain.

The scene in front of him wasn't familiar.

There was a man dressed in black with a grey scarf around his neck and yellow goggles on. They appeared to be in an alleyway, dirty puddles and open dumpsters running down the long grimy stretch.

"Relax, I was checking your pulse," the mystery man said. "You're injured."

Yeah no shit.

"W-who are you," he managed to rasp out. The question was followed by a vicious coughing fit, finding his throat to be drier than a desert. The man in front of him moved to help but he only shrunk further away.

"My name's Eraserhead," the man said patiently. "I'm a pro hero."

"_NO!_" he screamed. Adrenaline flooded his body and he found himself skittering back along the alleyway. Rough asphalt scraped his palms and he stumbled back onto his butt. He had to get away. pros were bad, they couldn't be trusted, they were fakes, they were liars, they-

Something ensnared his torso and he fell over from the halted momentum.

"Calm down, kid!" The man- Eraserhead- exclaimed.

But he couldn't. He had to get away, he had to get away he had to-

He threw up.

Distantly, he heard the pro hero hiss out a curse. He would have done the same if not for the bile in his mouth.

"I know you're scared but you're in no condition to be wandering the streets like that You're safe."

"Adults lie," he spat in response. "I can take care of myself."

"The shitty ones," Eraserhead agreed, still keeping his distance. "Then why were you passed out in an alley?"

He had no response to that. A pregnant pause followed, wherein the hero slowly loosened his capture weapon (which is what had bound him and made him fall) until he could sit up on his own.

"What's your name?" Eraserhead asked.

He opened his mouth to respond, but stopped. Nothing came to his mind. A cold chill washed down his spine in realization.

"I don't- I don't know," he choked out. Then, louder, "I don't know!"

Panic welled up in him, he could feel the heat of tears forming behind his eyes. Why didn't he remember his name. Why didn't he remember how he got here? Why didn't he remember _anything!_

"_I don't know my name_!"

"Hey, kid, it's okay," Eraserhead tried to reassure, stepping towards him. "We can take you to the hospital, and they'll be able to help"

Logically he agreed, but the second the word "hospital" had left the pros mouth, panic was already surging through him.

"_**NO**_!" He screeched. "Not the hospital please don't make me go, _please_!"

Breaths were coming faster now, his limbs starting to tremble uncontrollably. He couldn't go there. He couldn't. It was a bad place, a really bad place. He couldn't do it, please don't make him do it!

His head was starting to feel floaty. The alleyway was growing dimmer too.

"_Breathe_, kid!"

When had Eraserhead gotten above him. And why was he on the ground?

"Kid, I swear to god," the pro muttered.

"I can't-" he gasped. "I can't-"

He couldn't breathe. He couldn't breathe and he couldn't control his body. He was freezing and hot and everything hurt and he couldn't stop trembling and he didn't know where he was or remember his own name and his hands were getting _really_ hot oh god was that smoke what was happening-

"I'm sorry," was all he heard before the heat disappeared from his hands and his world fell black.

**AN: I hope you enjoyed it! Remember to wash you're hands!**


	2. Chapter 1

**AN: beta'd as of 3/12/20**

The kid couldn't have been older than fourteen, if his burnt middle school uniform was to be any indication.

Fourteen and the world had already abandoned him. It wasn't fair. Not that anything in life was. But to see a child, because that's what he was, so defeated and tormented wasn't something that should have happened in the first place.

He was unconscious now, having passed out after Shouta negated his quirk. The negation itself wasn't the cause; it had probably just been a catalyst.

In the kid's panic though his quirk had flared up, blue flames eating away at his hands and what was left of his coat. He probably hadn't even noticed he was doing it. Shouta rationalized that forcibly turning it off was better than making the kid do it himself.

Having a panic attack while also dealing with a destructive quirk like fire? It was never a good combination.

But now he had an unconscious middle schooler with amnesia to deal with. One that refused to be taken to a hospital. Of course, Shouta could always just take him anyway, since he was in no position to protest, but that didn't sit right with him.

He still needed an expert's opinion on what to do about the burns and amnesia, but maybe he could arrange a house call. It completely went against all his training but…

If he woke up in a hospital after that… he thought to himself. It would do more harm than good.

Making up his mind, Shouta scooped the kid up in his arms and prepared for the long walk back to his agency.

The kid was so light...

What happened to you?

* * *

It was nearing three in the morning when he finally got back to the building, kid in tow. He performed basic first aid after shooting a quick call to (a very annoyed) Recovery Girl. If he couldn't take the kid to a hospital he'd just bring the hospital here.

Besides, Chiyo did alumni house calls, didn't she?

He'd layed the kid down on a couch in his office. After washing all the soot and blood off, Shouta found pale skin and unruly red hair beneath the grime. The burns were bad, but not untreatable. The kid would be out of it for a while, and have a shit ton of scaring, but hopefully there wouldn't be any nerve damage. And even if Chiyo couldn't fix his amnesia it might be fixable another way. He wasn't sure. The mind was a complicated thing.

He just needed to help this kid as best he could for as long as he could. That was his duty.

It was almost an hour before Recovery Girl arrived with a nurse at her side, both looking exhausted. They also looked like they were carrying a hospital with them, given all the equipment they brought.

"I want you to know I wouldn't have done this if anybody else had called," Chiyo grouched upon entering the office. "You'd only call if it were a true emergency afterall." He would have given the old lady an eye roll at the comment but now wasn't the time. Besides, it wasn't logical to waste the time and resources of medical personnel with things he could treat on his own

"I found him unconscious in an alley a few hours ago. He woke up briefly before passing out again. He has a strong fire quirk, which might have been the cause of the burns," he supplied evenly. Most quirks didn't hurt the person they belonged to. Not like that anyway.

Chiyo tsk'd sadly before getting to work, ordering the nurse around and pulling out medical equipment from the many bags they'd brought.

"I'm assuming there's a reason you didn't take him to a hospital," she mused. It wasn't a question despite being phrased as one. Shouta answered regardless.

"When I mentioned a hospital, he started panicking and tried to escape. If I'd brought him to one it might have done more harm than good, considering his quirks response to his fear."

"It flared up?" She guessed. Shouta nodded.

"I had to disarm it for both our safety."

Chiyo hummed thoughtfully but said nothing else on the matter, instead getting to work. With the help of her nurse, the two managed to bandage up the teen and get rid of the destroyed tissue. It wasn't a pretty sight. But neither were a lot of things in Hero life.

Only when they were wrapping up did Shouta speak up again. "He also has amnesia."

Chiyo and the nurse both looked up, startled.

"I'm not sure if it's due to a quirk or other causes," he went on to say. "But he doesn't know his name."

"Well that could be due to many things," the old hero mused. "Physical factors, psychological factors, quirk factors, you name it. We live in strange times after all."

Shouta only hummed in agreement.

"Does he have enough stamina to be healed?" He asked, finally getting to the main point of her visit.

"He should," she sighed. "But it will take a lot out of him, what with all those nasty burns."

"How long?" He asked.

"At least a full day. If not two," she supplied. "I could leave my assistant here for the duration to help if need be," she offered, gesturing to the nurse. "Do you have somewhere better than an office couch to keep him?"

"My apartment," Shouta said. "There's a guest room." It didn't have a bed, but Shouta could sleep on the couch.

"Then we'll transfer him there after I heal him," Chiyo decided. "Now let's get this over with."

The old hero placed a kiss on the kids forehead, and instantly the burns started fading away. Underneath was a round, soft young face of a boy who shouldn't have gone through any of this. The pained expression he'd still worn in unconsciousness faded away as his body stitched itself together. Without it, he looked so much younger. Painfully young.

"He'll have scars," Chiyo said, breaking up Shouta's thoughts. "Lots of them."

"He'll have skin," Shouta corrected. Scars were better than necrotic tissue in his book.

"You always were one to look on the bright side," Chiyo sighed, tone heavy with sarcasm. "He should be fine now. Sadly though we won't know anything about his amnesia until he wakes up. I'll have my assistant help you bring him to your place then check in every few hours."

Shouta nodded. That sounded agreeable.

Now he just had to wait for the kid to wake up. However long that would take.

* * *

He could tell before he even opened his eyes that he was in trouble. His body ached horribly, like he'd ran a marathon. His throat was drier than a desert, and he was hungry. He felt as though the aching wasn't something new, but the other things were.

Felt? Wait, why didn't he-

Oh.

"Fuck," he muttered.

He'd been in that alleyway, that pro had been there, he'd asked him his name and he didn't know. After that things got blurry but he assumes he must have passed out like a weakling. Because he wasn't strong enough. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Maybe the fact he had amnesia should worry him more but he was honestly too exhausted to care. He felt like he'd slept for a week but could still sleep for another. God, what happened to him? Maybe he was a junkie. That would explain the dirty alley. Maybe the amnesia was a side effect of it.

But, no, that didn't quite feel right.

If he weren't so tired he would be frustrated.

Sighing heavily he finally decided to open his eyes. It was a feat in itself. They felt laden with sand bags, begging him to fall back into the sweet comfort of sleep. It was tempting, but he had questions that needed answers.

Finally he cracked them open and looked around.

The first thing he noticed was that he wasn't in a hospital like he would have thought. Instead he was in a decent sized bedroom. Sparsely decorated save for a cat tree in the corner and a (possible dead) plant on the window sill. He himself was laying on a futon. The cheap kind though, probably bought recently given the smell.

Turned his head over he saw a tube coming out from under the blankets. Lazily his eyes followed it up to a half empty IV bag hanging on a rod above him. Twitching his arm, he felt the connection point where he needle stuck in on the inside of his elbow. He hadn't even noticed it before.

The sudden meow next to his ear startled him from his thoughts.

"Mrow."

He blinked.

Next to him was a very fluffy, very fat looking cat.

"Mroooow." It batted his nose.

"Cut it out," he grumbled, weekly pushing the paw away. "You fat fuck."

"Don't bully my cat."

The sudden voice above him startled the boy so much that he almost hit his head on the wall sitting up so fast. "Holy shit!" He cried. "Could you not sneak up on me!"

Above him was the man from last night (was it last night? Who knew), except now he was wearing what was probably supposed to be pajamas. His hair was in a messy bun and the scarf was gone. And in his hands he held a tray of, well, he couldn't see since it was above him but he could guess it was food.

"You're awake." Eraserhead noted.

"Um… yeah?" What else was he supposed to say to that? Instead of responding, the pro just hummed and sat down, setting the tray next to him on the floor before picking the cat up.

"You were out for two days," the pro supplied. "I had a friend patch you up. You're at my apartment right now."

He… didn't really know what to say to that. He didn't remember anything before waking up in that alley, so he had no idea what to ask. Did they find out who he was? What had happened to him? Why was he there?

Luckily the decision was made for him. "Do you remember your name?"

A lump formed in his throat. "No," he admitted.

" What can I call you?"

Ummmmm. "I… don't know." Well, there was something, but it was really dark. A snort escaped him before he could cover it up.

"What?" Eraserhead asked.

"I uh, just." He coughed awkwardly. "WhataboutDabi?"

The pro blinked. "Come again?"

"Dabi?" He tried again. "'Cuz um. Like. I felt kinda, like I'd burned. To. Death." The explanation was stuttered and awkward as all hell, but the empty stare the pro gave him was worse than the judgemental one he was expecting.

Then, "Alright."

Dabi blinked. Just like that? No mocking? Nothing? Wait, why did he expect mocking? He'd save that thought for later.

"Um, is there something I can call you?" Dabi asked. "Aside from Eraserhead?" It sounded kind of stupid to say in his head.

"Aizawa," the pro offered. Ok. Aizawa it was.

"Did you find out anything? About me?" Dabi asked, changing the topic. Aizawa's expression remained neutral but Dabi swore he could see a bit of disappointment in his hooded eyes.

"No. There are no missing persons reports matching your description. And the uniform you were wearing was too damaged to identify."

Dabi flushed red in embarrassment, only now realizing someone must have changed his clothes.

"What about the quirk registry?" He asked.

Aizawa shook his head. "We didn't have enough information to go off of to look. And fire quirks are incredibly common. I'm sorry."

Dabi felt something inside him shrink in defeat. Logically he understood it would be hard to track someone down with such little information, but, a part of him had hoped. That maybe… Well. It didn't really matter anymore, he supposed.

Aizawa must have seen his expression and known what he was thinking because he said, "There's a chance, now that you're awake, that we can do something about your amnesia."

Dabi hated the feeling of hope that spring up in his chest. He didn't want to be let down again. He didn't want the disappointment. But…

But.

"We could take you to someone tomorrow when you're more rested," the older man said, somehow able to tell Dabi was still exhausted to his bones. "It doesn't have to be a hospital. We can bring them here."

"How'd you know I hated hospitals?" Dabi breathed. HE barely knew he hated hospitals. The only indication being the hot panic that welled in his stomach at the thought.

A grimace flashed across Aizawa's face that Dabi decided he didn't want to decipher. It never meant anything good when an adult wore that expression.

"Eat up," the pro said instead, moving the grey of food towards him. "Then get some rest. We'll talk more when you wake up."

He shifted and got up from his kneeling position next to Dabi. He moved to leave but was stopped by a sudden voice.

"Thank you," Dabi mumbled.

Aizawa stopped, hand on the doorway. "It's my job." Was all he said. Then, right before leaving, "And don't be mean to Cheeseball."

Next to him the cat meowed.

**AN: Until next time!**


	3. Chapter 2

**AN: welcome back! i hope everyone's staying safe and sane in these fucked up times. If not here's a chapter to distract you from it! Currently un-beta'd**

Sleep came easy to Dabi, but rest didn't. His dreams were filled with a sense of terror and the smell of burning flesh. Probably his own. By the time he woke up, he was damp with cold sweat and shaking from adrenaline.

And he had to pee.

It was still dark out he could tell, judging by the streetlights glow coming in from outside. The room was empty now save for a glass of water and protein bar left next to his futon. Looking closer he saw a note as well, telling him he could roam around the apartment as long as he didn't leave. Easy enough. Not like he had anywhere to go.

Finally giving in to nature's urge, he pushed himself off the makeshift bed and stumbled out into the hallway to find the bathroom.

The apartment itself was small. Not cramped, but a decent size for one person to be comfortable. Aizawa probably lived by himself then, and by the looks of it was also very froogle. Finding the bathroom, he slipped in, turned the light on, and did his business.

When he went to wash his hands though, he froze. Above the sink was a mirror where a young boy was staring back at him from. Dabi might not have remembered what he looked like, but he knew he hadn't looked like this.

Huge pale pink scars stretched across his jaw and beneath his eyes, the skin shiny as if just recently healed. They extended down to his collarbone and to his wrists as well. It wasn't grotesque, but it wasn't pleasant either.

Dabi grimaced, before wincing from the pain of stretching the new scar tissue. That was gonna take some getting used to.

Faintly he noticed how his hair was mostly charred as well, brittle and breaking off at the ends. Beneath he could see the roots, but with so much black it was hard to tell what the color was supposed to be. Carefully he pushed back his bangs to check. Hm, red. Well, black kind of looked better anyway.

A knock on the bathroom door startled him from his thoughts.

"Are you gonna take long?" Aizawa's muffled voice asked through the door.

"Uh, no, sorry," Dabi apologized. Quickly he finished his business and opened the door, not wanting to keep the older man waiting.

When he stepped out though, the hero made no move to go in after him. Okay… Awkward.

"You hungry?" He suddenly asked.

Hesitantly, Dabi nodded, unsure of where the conversation was going. Aizawa though just made a small hum before turning and heading down the hall to (presumably) the kitchen. So… did he not want to use the bathroom? After a few seconds Dabi decided to just follow the man and see what was up.

As they rounded the corner of the hall Dabi was graced with the sight of a tiny, cramped kitchen. Filled. With. Cat decorations.

Hand towels, aprons, hot pads, you name it. It was cat themed. What was worse was that they were all brightly colored and loud. Dabi couldn't see how a man as drab as this had a kitchen like that. Then again, he'd named his cat Cheeseball, so.

"Protein bar?"

Dabi blinked. "Huh?"

Looking back at the pro Dabi saw a packet of applesauce and a protein bar held up towards him. Was this what the guy ate on the regular? Dabi might not have his memories but he was pretty sure that wasn't a staple diet around Japan.

"It's that or instant ramen," Aizawa continued, setting the food options down. "This option though is healthier."

"Do you even know how to cook?" Dabi asked. Though only after saying it did he realize how rude it sounded. "Uh, I'm sorry I didn't mean-"

He was interrupted by Aizawa coughing a low laugh. And that... wasn't what Dabi had been expecting. He'd been expecting… what _had_ he been expecting? The hot feeling in his stomach told him that whatever it was wouldn't have been good.

"I haven't gone shopping recently," Aizawa said, interrupting Dabi's thoughts. "I'll go tomorrow." Well, at least the man knew proper eating habits at least.

Unsure of what else to do or say, Dabi accepted the food and retreated to the counter to eat. Aizawa joined him a moment later with a matching meal and two glasses of water. They sat in silence for a while before the pro spoke.

"Do you remember anything?" He began bluntly.

No. He didn't. He said as much.

"So," Aizawa continued. "There are a couple options for what we can do then. Most of them involve going to a hospital or a specialist though. We could also go to the police and see if they can find anything that I haven't."

Dabi highly doubted that. Heroes had access to the same material and information that police did. The only difference was that police worked in the more mundane tasks that didn't require a higher caliber of skill.

Dabi frowned. How did he know that?

"Once it's light out we can decide which to do first," Aizawa continued, oblivious to Dabi's inner musings. "You'll need to get a follow up physical too. You're healed but there can still be complications."

"Did you figure out how I got hurt?" He asked hopefully. Maybe that would give a clue as to who he was. Or at least a direction to aim towards.

"The working theory is that it was your quirk," Aizawa answered bluntly.

The smell of burning flesh from his dream came back to him, and he shivered unconsciously. He didn't doubt the hero on that.

"No missing persons reports?" He asked hopefully.

Aizawa shook his head. "None matching your description."

A cold feeling settled in his stomach at the news. He wasn't sure if he was comforted by it or not. Part of him knew he shouldn't be. After all, who would want to know no one was looking for them. That no one cared. But some part of him, some part deep was almost… relieved.

Almost.

"How long till daylight?" He asked, finally picking up the protein bar Aizawa had offered.

"Two hours," the pro replied. "Eat up and I'll draw a bath. You smell awful."

* * *

A bath had helped. A lot. He was also grateful it wasn't a shower because it probably would have irritated his raw, still healing skin. It also allowed him to just soak and let all the pent up tension out of his muscles. He hadn't even known he was so tense until the hot water had soothed it away.

After that Aizawa had lent him a pair of clothing (that didn't have cats on it, thank god) and gave him his options. Specialist, hospital, or police station. Either way it would be followed up by a check up with "Chiyo", whoever that was.

They went to the station first. It was relatively empty upon arrival, only a few bleary eyed looking detectives and cops walking around the bullpen. The two met up with a man named Tsukauchi and sat down in his office for what felt like forever. In reality though it was only two hours. They covered everything one could possibly think of to find out who Dabi was and how he'd ended up in that alley.

Physical descriptions, quirk registry, you name it. Unfortunately, all the leads were dead ends. Of course they weren't doing a thorough search, well, not _as_ thorough as they could, but still. It was disappointing. The hero and teen eventually left with the promise to call if any new information came up, with the detective doing the same.

The next stop was to get a follow up with whoever had healed him. Which was apparently at UA.

For some reason the thought of the school sent a shiver down Dabi's spine.

"So why are we seeing again?" Dabi asked as the pair strolled through the hallways. They were empty at the moment, presumably because class was still in session. Which was well enough for Dabi, he didn't think he could handle a large crowd at the moment.

"Her hero name is Recovery Girl, But you can all her Ms. Chiyo," Aizawa supplied in his usual dry tone. "She was the one who healed you the night I found you."

"So she's got a healing quirk?" Dabi surmised. Aizawa gave a nod of confirmation. "But if it was a healing quirk why was I out for so long?"

The pro let out a tired sigh before answering. "Chico's quirk works so that it speeds up the body's natural recovery process. Healing takes energy, but you don't notice because it's spread out over a period of time." Aizawa led him around a corner and down another hallway, continuing his speech. "What her quirk does is cut that time down. Meaning your body will use the same amount of energy all at once."

"Ergo, the fatigue," Dabi finished thoughtfully. He shrugged "That makes sense, I guess."

And Dabi was happy to just leave it at that. But for a flash of a second he swore he saw uncertainty in the pros bloodshot eyes. Something small and cold started to grow in his gut at the sight.

"We're here," Aizawa abruptly said.

They had stopped in front of a room labeled "Nurse's Office", which seemed a bit… tame, given the types of first aid that presumably went on in there. Aizawa gave a quick knock before a lady's voice called for them to come in.

"Ah, you're looking much better, deary."

Dabi blinked, looking down to see a withered old woman in a cutesie nurses outfit sitting on a swivel stool. Unsure how to respond, he just said, "Um, thank you?"

Hopping off her stool the woman (Chiyo, he reminded himself) got straight to business.

"Alright, let's take a look atcha. Up on the bed you go. Shirt and pants off," she ordered.

Heat, and not the quirk kind, started rising in Dabi's face. "Uh, pants?" He echoed, eyes flickering over to the pro leaning against the wall. Chiyo eyeballed him for a moment before smirking knowingly.

"I've seen a lot, dearie. And Shouta can turn around." Dabi wanted the earth to split open and swallow him whole so he didn't have to deal with continuing this conversation.

He swore the old lady mumbled "puberty" under her breath before walking around the bed and drawing a privacy curtain around them. Oh, right, that was an option.

Now though instead of embarrassment he felt trapped, quirk itching just under his skin as his fight or flight instincts started gearing up. Behind his ribs he could feel his heart pick up speed.

"Hm, not a fan of hospitals, hm?" Chiyo noted seriously. Dabi just nodded stiffly, not trusting his voice to speak. "Shirt and pants," she ordered again. Dabi complied and the woman continued with her thoughts. "I suppose it was a good thing you were unconscious last time. With that quirk of yours it would have been a danger to all of us."

"You think I'd lose control of it?" He asked as he pulled his borrowed shirt over his head.

"Given what Shouta said happened in the alley, no doubt."

Huh. _He_ barely knew what happened in the alley.

"If you'd like a distraction I can list every single tie Aizawa came to my office when he was in school," Chiyo offered. Dabi was sorely tempted to take her up on that. As he finished tossing his pants to the side, leaving him only in his boxers, Chiyo pulled out a stethoscope and got to work.

First was the standard breathe-in breathe-out and listen to heartbeat, then blood pressure, temperature (oddly low), whatever that finger clamp was for, then height and weight (Why there was a scale in a high school nurse's office Dabi couldn't say. UA was probably just Like That).

Then they started on the more pressing matters.

Like the fresh shiny scars covering near 80% of his body.

"Hm," Chiyo mused as she poked and prodded along his healing skin. "It will probably be permanent, but the scars will fade with time. Luckily no nerve damage though. Third and fourth degree burns often destroy nerve tissue; so you're lucky Aizawa found you when he did."

The statement didn't really make the icy feeling in Dabi's stomach go away. In fact, it probably made it worse. He really could have been fucked up. Worse so than he was now, anyways.

"I recommend you stay out of the sun for awhile while your scars heal," the old lady went on to say. "I know it doesn't seem like much but the UV rays on raw, healing skin can be incredibly detrimental."

"So just stay inside?" Dabi asked dryly. "Works for me." He had no interest in going out and doing anything. Not in the slightest.

Except…

"I uh," he mumbled. "I don't have anywhere to stay."

For some reason the old lady seemed to find the statement amusing. "Yes you do, deary," she chuckled. Before Dabi could even wonder what she meant, a small sigh was heard from behind the privacy curtain.

Did. Did Aizawa intend to put him up? Indefinitely?

He was pulled from his musings though when Chiyo asked him a question.

"Now, you don't remember anything before the events of the other night?" She asked. Dabi just shook his head. "How about a name, or age?" She prodded.

"Um…" Dabi frowned, biting his lip in thought. "I think I'm," he paused. "Thirteen? Maybe fourteen." Yeah, that age range felt right. Chiyo however frowned.

"Are you certain?" She asked. Dabi shrugged. He couldn't really be certain of anything at the moment. "If that's the case," she continued. "Then you're awfully small for your age."

"Wow, thanks," he deadpanned.

"He's middle school aged at _least_," Aizawa suddenly spoke up from behind the curtain. "When I found him he was wearing a uniform."

"So twelve to fifteen then," the old lady surmised.

"Can we meet in the middle and say fourteen?" Dabi offered.

"Thirteen," she countered.

"And a half."

"Fine."

The appointment was wrapped up fairly quickly after that. Dabi was allowed to clothe himself again, with instructions to take only baths until his skin was completely healed and to avoid sunlight as much as possible.

"I'm not sure what I can say about your amnesia, boy," the old hero sighed as she finished writing up her instructions. "Honestly I was hoping it would only be temporary," she admitted. "But I can recommend a few specialists that might be able to help. Assuming that is that you want to avoid hospitals. Otherwise I'd recommend a CT scan or an MRI."

Yeah, that was a hard no.

"Thank you for your help, Chiyo," Aizawa offered instead, giving a slight bow. Dabi followed suit.

"Anytime dearie," the hero smiled. "And don't forget to take a gummy on your way out."

**AN: DABI STANS HOW WE FEELIN. Actually how's anyone feeling? That chapter was uh... yeah. No spoilers though. Hope you enjoyed the fic! Please leave a comment or kudo if you did cuz it fuels the creative juices. til next time 3**


	4. Chapter 3

**AN: ****hey everyone! hope everyone's staying safe. Got a new chapter for ya. This one's a time skip and really just set up before we get to the plot a bit later. kinda dull, I know. but necessary. hope y'all enjoy!**

**Ten years later**

It was a nightmare that woke him up. A nightmare he couldn't remember but left a rancid taste in his mouth. Burning and fear. Nothing he wasn't familiar with but something he thought he'd left behind long ago.

Apparently Dabi was wrong.

It had been months since he last had a nightmare, and he really thought he was getting better. No more waking up in the middle of the night drenched in cold sweat and feeling like his heart was going to leap out of his chest. Or feeling the phantom pain of blue flames eating away at his body.

Guess he still wasn't 100%.

Wiping a tired hand down his face, Dabi got up from the bed and made his way across the hall to the bathroom, splashing cold water on his face to ground himself. The cold helped wake him up, shocking his system somewhat. His hands shook a little, but it could be worse.

It had been ten years, but his past was still haunting him. And he had no memories of it.

The first year had been the worst. It was constant fear and uncertainty for him. Aizawa had let him stay at his place while they tried to sort things out. Eventually the man just gave in and straight up adopted him though, claiming that it would be too much of a hassle to find someone else to take him in. Yeah that was bullshit and they both knew it.

After that, things had sort of calmed down. He went to therapy, saw specialists, all that jazz. But, when it really came down to it, he didn't want to get his memories back. Not really. If his nightmares and trauma were bad enough _without_ knowing what happened, he dreaded to think how he would feel if he _did_ recall.

Part of him though knew it was just fear controlling him. Avoidance. His therapist had explained it to him. But really, Dabi was fine with it. He could function as an adult, he had friends, and had a family. That was all that mattered. Fourteen missing years of his life didn't impact any of that, so why bother.

Finally, Dabi decided he was awake enough and trugged back to his room to grab some clean clothes before taking a shower. Look at his alarm clock he was surprised to find it read 6:34 AM. Technically a decent time for an adult to get up, but fuck if it didn't feel way too early anyways. How Aizawa managed to do this everyday after night shifts, Dabi had no idea.

And teach little gremlins no less. Honestly the man astounded him.

Back to the bathroom.

Ah shit, his roots were coming in. He'd need to re-dye that soon.

Fifteen minutes later there was a knock on the door.

"You have a fire quirk, you don't need to use up all the hot water," he heard someone call from the other side.

"And you need to learn to take showers after your patrols you old man!" Dabi shouted back with a smirk.

"Make me coffee and I won't shut off the water heater," was the grumbled response he got.

Snorting a laugh, Dabi made quick work of scrubbing himself clean and turning the water off before his adopted dad made any more of a stink about it. He knew the man wouldn't actually go through with his threats, but the less grumpy the Aizawa, the better.

five minutes later and he was preparing coffee in the kitchen while munching on a protein bar.

"You need fruit with that," a voice said behind him. Dabi turned around and watched as his adopted father walked into the kitchen, eyes bloodshot and hair a mess. So, the usual.

"Applesauce packets do not count as fruit," he shot back, grabbing two mugs from the shelf.

"Yes they do."

"No they don't."

A beat. "I'm not going to continue arguing with you," the hero finally lamented. Dabi smirked.

"'Cause you know I'd win," he teased.

"'Cause you're too goddamn stubborn."

Dabi smiled. That he was. Letting the matter drop, he filled up the mugs and handed one off to Aizawa. It was the one with the cat paw prints wrapping around it.

"So, first day of school, huh?" The young man started, taking a sip from his mug.

The pro hero just looked up at him over his own mug with a raised eyebrow. Dabi frowned.

"This is how people have conversations, dad," he pouted. The silent stare he got for his efforts sent a shiver down his back. He rolled his eyes. "Forget I asked."

"You know I'm not at liberty to discuss my student with you," Aizawa finally said after a few moments. "Besides, you don't tell me what you get up to at that agency of yours."

"It's called an NDA," Dabi protested. "I'm not allowed to."

"Uh huh."

Dabi could feel the judgement radiating off his dad and honestly? He wasn't a fan. This also had nothing to do with the fact that the only thing about his job he'd ever told his dad was how hot his boss was. Nope. Not at all. There were reasons that was the only thing he could discuss. Legal reasons!

Even if his boss _did_ have a nice ass and that was all he could think about when he got home-

"If you're gonna get a boner do it in privacy," his dads' voice cut in.

That definitely killed the mood rising in his pants.

"DAD!" He cried. "Gross!"

All he got for his trouble was a raised eyebrow and a smirk.

Dabi was definitely looking for his own apartment after today.

* * *

Okay, maybe a teasing father wasn't the only reason he was planning on getting a new apartment. The second, and main reason, was that his job was pretty far away. Maybe if he had a car it'd be different, but one, he didn't know how to drive, and two, traffic and parking were the worst.

Musutafu to Kyushu wasn't a short trip. The only reason he hadn't already quit and found a closer job was because of his boss. His incredibly charming, and attractive boss.

Who also happened to be one of the top 5 heroes in all of Japan, Hawks.

"Ah, look who finally decided to show up," said boss greeted as Dabi made it into the office. Shrugging off his bag, Dabi dropped into his chair and flashed a peace sign at the man.

"Hey man, you know it's not a short trip by train," he countered lazily.

"You could always move closer," the hero offered with a shrug.

"And let my dad live off of protein bars and applesauce?" He joked. "No thanks."

"I could always fire you," Hawks suggested playfully. "Then you wouldn't _have _to commute so far."

"Aw, that's sweet," Dabi smiled. "But where would you find another me? I'm one in a million." Hawks mockingly sneered at the comment, knowing the other man was right. Dabi was great at his job, and no one could replace him.

He wasn't a sidekick, but he wasn't an assistant either. He was more like a detective who had permission to use his quirk. So almost a sidekick, but he didn't work directly under a pro hero. He had a hero license yes, but only out of necessity. Honestly Dabi was closer to an underground hero than anything. He did the dirty, hidden work that Hawks wasn't able to due to his status as #3. Things like undercover ops, stings, that sort of thing. That was all Dabi's wheelhouse. He reported everything back to Hawks and they'd work together to solve the case.

Dabi was invaluable, and they both knew it.

"So anything new on that quirk trafficking case?" Dabi asked, switching to business mode.

Hawks demeanor switched on a dime as well, playful smile gone and replaced with cold indifference. "No, unfortunately," the pro sighed. "Maybe if we got in contact with the Endeavor agency we could get more info, since they're working on a similar one which could be connected…" he trailed off in thought.

Internally Dabi cringed at the suggestion. He'd never met the man, that he knew of, but for some reason any mention of the #2 hero always sent a shiver down his back.

"I can call sometime today and ask," he offered anyway, putting his personal feeling aside. He had a job to do after all.

"Yeah that'd be good," Hawks nodded. "I'll be on patrol 'till 3 so I won't be able to help 'till then."

"Alright," Dabi said. "I'll see what I can get."

* * *

As soon as Aizawa entered the apartment Dabi knew what kind of day he'd had.

"Problem child already?" He teased, tossing the man a can of coffee from where he was propped up on the couch. The pro caught it deftly before cracking it open and downing half of it in one go.

"You have no idea," he finally sighed.

"Care to share?" Dabi asked.

"Not on your life," was the dry response he got. Dabi laughed at that. Yes he knew about teachers not being allowed to talk about their students but come on, not even a little bit? It wasn't like he was a doctor or anything sworn to confidentiality. Was he?

"Okaaaaay then, how about quirks?" the young man tried instead. "Any interesting ones?"

"What, you can't wait for the sports festival like everyone else?" Aizawa countered, plopping down on the couch next to him.

"That's like weeks away," Dabi moaned.

"Two weeks," Aizawa corrected.

"Yeah," Dabi said. "Which is more than one week, so it technically counts."

Aizawa let out a long sigh. "If I tell you their quirks will let me drink my coffee in peace?" he finally relented.

"Deal!"

**AN: thank you for reading! let me know your thoughts in the comments!**


	5. Chapter 4

**AN: Warnings: I am by no means a psychologist and all uses and explanations of amnesia and trauma represented are purely for fictional use and are not medically accurate. Also this is un-beta'd so there's gonna be mistakes I'll fix at a later date.**

And thank you everyone for the comments and kudos! I love them so much!

Of all the days to forget his phone it home _why_ did it have to be today.

Why did a bunch of villains have to attack his dad and students today?

His day had been going great. Woke up at a decent time, had a smooth commute, got some good leads on some cases, even had Hawks bring him lunch! It was fried chicken but it was better than nothing.

Then he had to turn on the news and watch a reporter tell him that class 1-A of UA, his dad's class, had been attacked by a group of villains. And better yet, two of the faculty were in urgent care.

And he couldn't call anytone to find out if his dad was one of the ones in the hospital or not.

"Hawks," he cried, almost tripping himself as he shot from his desk. Hawks glanced up at the news report and blanched.

"Is that your dads'-"

"I have to go."

He didn't even have time to watch Hawks nod before darting out of the office.

The rush to Musutafu was a blur. He knew he took the train, but that was it. Upon reaching the city he didn't even try to hail a cab, just bolting straight to the hospital from the station as soon as the train let him off.

The nurses didn't take very kindly to him booking it through the halls but he couldn't honestly care less. He skidded to a stop once he reached the check in desk.

"Is there a Shouta Aizawa here? He was a part of the attack on UA; I need to know if he's alright!"

"Calm down sir," the nurse tried. "I can only give that information to family of-"

"I'm his son goddamnit!" He cried. "Dabi Aizawa. Now can you tell me where he is!"

"Dabi!"

Dabi whipped around to see Mic running down the hall towards him. He looked relatively okay except for the worry lining his face.

"Mic, is my dad okay?"

"He's stable," the man said.

Immediately Dabi felt like strings that had been holding him up were cut. His legs gave out and Mic had to race forward to catch him.

"Woah, kid!"

Dabi couldn't even mutter out a 'thanks'.

His dad had almost died. His dad had almost died. The sentence kept replaying over and over in his head. He could feel both the relief and terror coursing through him as Mic led him over to a sitting area. Man, he hadn't felt like this since…

Well, better not to dwell on it.

"How did this happen?" He found himself asking. His voice was wavering barely above a whisper, throat too tight to get anything else out.

"No idea, kid," Mic sighed. "A huge group of villains attacked Aizawa's class while they were at the USJ. He fought hard for them."

"Was anyone-" _killed. _Dabi's throat closed off before he could finish the sentence.

Burned in an alley. Alone. Terrified.

No, this was different. Get out of here stupid memories!

Shaking his head as if to clear it, Dabi tried again. "Was anyone hurt?"

"Aizawa and Thirteen," Mic sighed tiredly. "And one of the students, but that was due to quirk backlash."

Dabi found himself letting out a dry snort. Boy did he know how that felt. At least none of the villains had gotten to them. No kid deserved to go through that.

"How did they even manage to _get_ into the USJ?" He finally asked.

The pro next to him frowned before answering. "We suspect it had something to do with the break in this morning."

Dabi's eyes widened. "There was a break-in?" He exclaimed. "That's impossible, the defenses are too good!"

From the look Mic was giving him the man was clearly thinking the same thing. "Probably a destructive quirk," he admitted. "And with all the press outside the gates it would be impossible to see who it was with the security footage."

"Bastards," Dabi ground out.

Next to him Mic hummed in agreement.

The two then lapsed into silence. There wasn't anything to say after all. And even if there was neither had the energy. All they could do was wait now.

Dabi let out a deep sigh, leaning forward into his hands.

He couldn't lose a family member. He couldn't go through that. Yeah being a hero came with risks but could you blame Dabi for being a little selfish? Aizawa was all he had. Literally. He was the only family he had any memory of. He was the one who gave him a place to stay, food to eat, a shoulder to cry on.

Yes, Dabi was an adult now. Yes he had a job. Yes he could afford his own place if he wanted. Yes he had a _life._ But… He needed him to keep living, because without him, Dabi didn't know what he would do.

* * *

_It had been almost two months, and still no lead as to who Dabi was. No missing persons reports had shown up in that time, and the quirk registry wasn't of any help either._

_He'd healed up fine though. Physically. They'd met with several counselors and doctors though to go over the possible reasons for the amnesia and whether his memories could be recovered. So far the prognosis was trauma repression. Essentially whatever he's been through was bad enough that his brain decided to just block it off from his consciousness. His unconscious still retained the memories, however that worked, but he couldn't actively recall anything._

_There had been some other fancy Doctor terms thrown in too. It had left Dabi's head spinning by the end of it. But the consensus was that it was possible to recover his memories with the right treatment and lots of time._

_But…_

"_How you doin', kid?" Aizawa spoke up from behind as the two trudged their way back to the apartment. They were coming back from one of those very appointments now, and it had taken a mental toll on them both._

"'_M just tired," Dabi mumbled._

_He heard Aizawa him in agreement._

_Dabi had found the man was of little words. Or expressions. Really he was more like an angry cat that wanted nothing to do with you until it's food bowl was empty. Which was exactly what Cheeseball acted like so it was like Dabi was living with two Cheeseballs. Except, the bigger Cheeseball paid bills. Probably._

"_How's soba sound for dinner?" Bigger Cheeseball asked, pulling Dabi from his thoughts. The two had made it to the door and Aizawa was currently fumbling with his key chain. How many keys did a single man with no social life need?_

"_Hot or cold?" Dabi asked. Aizawa just shrugged._

"_Either one." He found the right key and jammed in the door, twisting it open. "Whichever you want."_

"_Let's do hot."_

_The two shuffled into the apartment and finally let themselves unwind. Dabi went straight for a bath while Aizawa started on their dinner._

_An hour later the two were sat down with full bowls of soba. Cheeseball was helping himself to some leftover chicken that had fallen on the floor while cooking._

_Somewhere during the meal though Dabi found he'd lost interest in the food. It was good but he just couldn't find it in himself to eat any more. His stomach was twisting uncomfortably and heat was building behind his eyes, and not the quirk kind._

"_What's wrong?"_

_What's wrong? _Everything's _wrong. But Dabi couldn't just say that. He had a bed to sleep in, a roof over his head, food to eat… he had no right to complain. Boo hop he has a little trauma. So does everyone. What right does he get to complain about it?_

_Aizawa must have seen his inner turmoil, because his face darkened with a deep frown._

"_Hey, Dabi, look at me," he ordered. When Dabi didn't move, the hero just got up from his seat and moved around the table to stand next to the kid._

_He sighed. "Look, I know I'm not good with the whole emotions thing," he ground out. "But you can't keep it bottled up."_

_Dabi remained stubbornly silent._

_A sigh._

"_Talk to me kid."_

_His eyes were fixed on his lap. At some point he'd lowered his hands to his lap where they were now clinging to the fabric for dear life. As if he could hold the growing emotions back by sheer force alone._

"_Dabi."_

"_What if…" Dabi's fists clenched his pants hard enough for his knuckles to turn white. Tears stung at his eyes, hot like the flames simmering just under his skin. Stealing himself, the teen sucked in a breath, gathering the strength to ask what he needed. "_What if I don't want my memories back?" _He finally cried._

_He couldn't see it, but he was fairly sure Aizawa was looking at him with wide, pitying eyes. Dabi didn't want his pity! He didn't want his tears. He didn't even want his own tears! Only weak people cried and he was pathetic for doing it himself. But he couldn't stop them._

_There was the sound of shifting fabric and then Aizawa entered his range of sight. The young pro was crouching in front of him, expression indecipherable. "Why do you say that?" Came the man's neutral voice, which was not at all what he was expecting to hear._

_Dabi had to take a moment to gather himself so he could speak without his voice cracking. "I just-" he started. "Whatever happened to me… it was really bad. And, no one- no one is looking for me. No one misses me. I just-" He broke off as a sob forced itself out of his lips. Angrily he wiped at his eyes, frustrated that he was still crying. "I don't want to live with that! I'm not ready for it!"_

_A warm hand landed on his shoulder._

_Immediately Dabi jerked back, reflexes warning him about incoming pain. But nothing happened. Slowly, he looked up towards the man in front of him, afraid of what he would see._

_But instead of judgement, he saw warm, kind eyes._

"_If you don't want that, I'm not gonna force you, kid," Aizawa assured. "And if you ever change your mind, I'll help you through it."_

_Dabi sniffed. "You m-mean it?" Aizawa nodded._

"_That's what heroes do. We help people. So I'm gonna help you, you got that?"_

_He hadn't even managed to finish the sentence before Dabi had thrown his arms around him in a massive hug._

**AN: Hope you enjoyed! Wash your hands and stay safe!**


	6. Chapter 5

If there was one thing Dabi hated more than being in a hospital, it was being in a hospital to visit a loved one.

If he was in the hospital for himself it was one thing. It meant he'd fucked up. It was on him, and he just had to do better next time. If he was visiting someone…

It meant he couldn't protect them. And there was nothing he could do about it.

So it would be suffice to say Dabi was _not_ enjoying his current predicament.

Four hours of surgery and a visit from Chiyo had Aizawa moved to the ACU. Personally Dabi thought they should have kept him in the ICU but he didn't have a medical degree so he didn't get to call the shots. Mic had stayed with him for a majority of the time, but eventually the man had had to leave as he still had obligations to attend to.

Shit. Dabi had those too. Ooooh he did _not _want to deal with them right now though.

Unfortunately the more he ignored it the heavier his phone seemed to get in his pocket (Mic had grabbed it for him from the apartment while Aizawa had been in surgery).

"Motherfucker," he grumbled before reaching to pull the offending device out. He didn't even pause on the lock screen to see how many missed calls or texts or whatever he'd gotten. All undoubtedly from Hawks and others at the agency. Probably worried about him. He didn't want their pity though. He could take care of himself.

Didn't change the fact he still had to call in to explain himself. Regardless if they all figured it out by now. Which they undoubtedly had. They were a fucking hero agency after all.

Sighing heavily he selected Hawks contact and pressed Call. He picked up after the first ring.

"_Dabi, holy shit man, I've been callin' for hours. Is everything okay?"_ Hawks' worried voice sounded from over the line.

Dabi opened his mouth to respond but nothing came out.

Nothing was okay. Nothing was fucking okay.

"_Dabi?_"

He shook himself out of it. He had work to do. "Yeah," he managed. "Um. I left my phone at home, sorry. Erasurehead- Aizawa, he got hurt bad. I'm at Musutafu General right now…" he trailed off. He meant to say more, but he didn't really know what he could say. That he wasn't sure if his dad was gonna make it? Hawks didn't need to hear that. He won't be coming back in to work today? That was probably important. Maybe he was supposed to update Hawks on the heroes status. That could be important.

"_Is he gonna be okay?"_

Ice formed in Dabi's chest.

"I- I don't-" he couldn't finish.

Clearing his throat he tried again. "Uh, I'm not gonna be in for work for the rest of the day. Probably tomorrow too. Sorry."

"_I wouldn't expect you to." _He heard hawks sigh. "_Just take care of yourself okay? I don't wanna see my best detective crash and burn."_

Dabi snorted under his breath. _A bit late for the burn part. _He thought sardonically.

"I'll do my best," he huffed. "Don't do anything stupid while I'm gone." And with that the call ended.

Later Dabi found he'd somehow made it to Aizawa's room, hovering in the doorway like an anxious child. His feet wouldn't bring him any closer to the bed, but the gravity of it all prevented him from backing away. He was effectively frozen in place, just staring at his dad.

He hated what he saw.

Dabi had never been fond of hospitals or bandages after he'd been found. It always stirred a fire in his gut just thinking about it (and not the quirk kind). The kind that flashed across your skin and made your heart pound with adrenaline. That made your stomach plummet to your feet and your legs shake like jello.

So seeing his father wrapped head to toe in them was like someone had set an inferno ablaze in his chest and dropped him off a cliff.

Somehow he made it to a chair before his knees gave out beneath him.

This was the life of a hero. He knew that. But knowing and seeing…

Slowly, rage started to replace the helplessness welling inside. How could villains do this? How could they _want_ this? Clenching his fists, Dabi swore to himself that if he ever managed to get his hands on those responsible, there wouldn't even be ashes left.

It was sometime after midnight when Dabi was awakened by someone mussing his hair. He groaned, turning away. Five more minutes, come on.

Then he registered the sound of beeping monitors and the feel of rough sheets beneath his cheek.

Right. The Hospital. Aizawa.

"You awake yet?" Someone above him rasped.

Blearly, Dabi looked up from his position facedown on the bed. At some point he must have fallen asleep while sitting next to his dad. His back definitely supported that theory. Ouch.

Upon looking up though, he was greeted with the site of two black eyes staring at him from behind mummy wrappings, dark hair spilling out above.

"Dad!" He gasped. The only thing stopping him from tackle hugging the man was knowing it would only worsen the trauma his body had been through.

"Can't get rid of me that easy," the hero sighed. Dabi would have rolled his eyes in any other situation, but he found all he could do at the moment was let out a wet laugh. He saw the man's eyes soften in response.

Dabi hated how tight his throat was. How his eyes burned with tears and how he couldn't seem to control his expression. He never wanted his dad to see him that way. Least of all now. "You-" his voice caught. Damn his weakness! "You're not allowed to die, okay? Don't pull that shit again."

Despite being pumped so full of pain medications that would have made him as high as the Taipei tower, Aizawa gave a slow and measured blink. "I'll try not to," he just managed to rasp out. "Problem child."

Something cracking in Dabi upon hearing those words. Problem child. When was the last time he'd heard those words? Before he could stop himself tears were flowing freely and sobs were threatening to rip his chest apart. Half from shame and half from relief, he let his head fall to the edge of the bed and just lay there.

His dad was going to be okay. Aizawa was going to be okay.

* * *

For some ungodly reason, his dad was back to work two days later. Dabi tried (forcefully) to talk him out of it, but no matter what he did or said the man wouldn't hear it. He had a job to do and he was going to do, goddamnit.

Dabi suspected the reason wasn't as simple as that but he kept his mouth shut. If he brought it up his dad would just deny it, never one for "emotions" and whatnot. But Dabi knew better. That man just wanted to make sure his students were okay and maybe seeing him up and about would reassure them. Probably. Honestly Dabi had no idea what went on in the pros mind. He didn't think he wanted to, either.

Another thing on his mind though was the UA sports festival. Aizawa had told him it wasn't going to be cancelled despite recent events, which Dabi thought was a mistake. Now, Dabi usually looked forward to the event every year, but now he wasn't so sure. Twenty of this years participants had almost died a week ago and now they were expected to participate in a fucking hero triatholon? Like nothing had happened? And instead of postponing it or anything, the school was just going to strengthen security measures and some other lame stuff like that. Hire a few extra pros to act as guards and shit. Mostly the measures seemed like a deterrent rather than actual security (seeing as the list of heroes they'd hired wasn't that impressive), but he supposed it was better than nothing. Except…

If a group of villains were willing to go after _All Might,_ what hope did a few C rank's have?

He just hoped the League was still licking their wounds. If so they wouldn't pose a threat. Hopefully.

"Hey Dabi," someone called.

Dabi was forced out of his thoughts at the words and looked up. Through the doorway to Hawks' office, he saw the bird man looking at him expectantly.

"Uh, yeah?"

"Did you hear what I asked?" Hawks' asked. At Dabi's blank expression, the hero elaborated. "I was wondering what progress you'd made on that Stain guy."

Right. Stain. The hero killer. He'd been inactive for a little while which meant his next strike was coming up soon. He always struck in threes before disappearing into the wind, where he would then find another random city and repeat the process. So far the only heros he'd killed/injured were B rank and lower. But who knew how long it was before he went after someone with Hawks' status. And with an unknown quirk thrown in the mix… let's just say it was dangerous to be a hero right now. Well, more so than usual.

"Nothing yet," he finally replied. "Just that he's fast, smart, and fucking creepy."

"Anything on his motives?" Hawks asked.

Dabi just shook his head. "No clue."

"_Ugh_," his boss groaned dramatically. "Serial killers are the worst."

"Hey, look on the bright side," Dabi smirked. "He'll pop up again soon enough. Then we'll have more info."

"Yeah. And another dead hero," the birdman grumbled.

_Not if they were good at their job_, Dabi thought. He wisely kept it to himself though.

His dislike for heroes as a whole wasn't exactly secret, but he didn't broadcast it either. He wasn't sure why but the whole hero thing just irked him. Although I'm a society built on such things, speaking dissent would not bring him trouble. Especially since he was _working_ for one.

A hot hero. But still a hero.

"Hey bird brain," he called out. "You planning on watching the sports festival next week?"

Through the doorway Dabi could see Hawks shrug. "Maybe. I hear the first year class has some promising kids."

Dabi frowned. It wasn't like Hawks to scout so young. Usually the guy couldn't stand anyone without at least _some_ field experience. First years just didn't have that.

Well, usually anyway.

"Are you finally gonna take on an intern this year?" Dabi asked.

"Maybe," Hawks replied. "Maybe then an employee would actually listen to me." With the last bit he shot a dirty smirk at Dabi, an evil glint in his eye.

"For the last time I'm not fetching you coffee. I'm your associate not your fucking secretary."

Hawks had the _audacity_ to pout in response to that. "But Dabi," he said while fighting down a smirk. "Who else could I trust with such a dangerous task."

Dabi stared at him. Then blinked. "Caffeine is toxic to birds."

An indignant squawk from Hawks was all the response he got.


End file.
